


Fashion Victim

by Amity33



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Fashion & Couture, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amity33/pseuds/Amity33
Summary: When the Major has a new suit made, the repercussions are far and wide. For the Imzy From Eroica With Love 12th November challenge.





	

The gala was bustling with the rich and famous, but even in this glitzy setting Lord Gloria stood out amidst the multitude of sparkling evening gowns and jet-black tuxedos. Then again, it was hard _not_ to stand out whilst wearing a shimmering silver tuxedo with an electric blue frilly shirt and black bow tie. On anyone else such an outfit would look horribly tacky; on Lord Red Gloria it was the epitome of elegance. The man was a fashion icon in his own right; everyone admired him for this, the slender man with the short auburn ponytail and impeccably cut dark blue three-piece suit with white silk cravat being no exception.

The man purposely made his way towards Lord Gloria and tapped him politely on the shoulder. The Earl turned around and his large, beautiful eyes widened in delighted surprise. "Antoine, darling! So good to see you! It's been simply ages, I'm sure. Since Fashion Week last spring in Paris, was it not?"

"Quite correct, my lord," the man called Antoine replied in flawless English and a very respectful tone; despite the French name he was in fact a true-blood Londoner, with all the ingrained respect of the British for their aristocracy – but one did not become Senior Designer with Carl Lagerfeld bearing the banal name of Tony Smith. "You look quite wonderful tonight, if I may say so," he added, looking over the flamboyant ensemble. "Balenciaga, from the autumn collection, I believe. It does suit you magnificently, but I must say I'm wounded you did not come to us for this event."

"For a cheap gathering of the nouveau-riche such as this? Please, old boy; were it not for my rank I might as well have worn an off-the-rack suit," Lord Gloria murmured conspiratorially with a disdainful gesture. "Now, for a _really_ important occasion like the celebration for Her Majesty's wedding anniversary next month, I wouldn't _dream_ of entrusting anyone but you with my outfit."

Antoine smiled with great satisfaction; a design of his being worn at Her Majesty's anniversary reception was advertisement of the first order. "Truly honored by your trust, my lord," he said obligingly. "You may rest assured we will make every effort to dress you fittingly for the occasion."

"I hope you won't find me too picky a customer," Lord Gloria remarked with a small smile. "It is not always easy to choose the outfit which best compliments such a beauty as my own, therefore I regret to say I often come off as hard to please." Not big on humility, Lord Gloria was, but then he at least had the looks to support it. Antoine smiled politely and replied, "I'm sure we'll be able to satisfy your high standards, my lord. Besides," he added with a dramatic gesture, "after the horrendous experience I had a few months ago, I don't think I would ever dare to complain even about my most eccentric patron."

Lord Gloria raised his eyebrows curiously. "Horrendous experience? Why, what on earth happened to you, Antoine? Oh, I think I can guess...you had to serve the Duchess of Wallingford, didn't you? Well, I can't say I blame you, everyone knows her ladyship is notoriously difficult to satisfy when it comes to her ensembles..."

"Oh, I wish it had been her!" Antoine exclaimed, and Lord Gloria stared at him with renewed interest. "Someone more difficult than the Duchess of Wallingford? Now you really got me curious, Antoine," he said with obvious anticipation. "You simply _must_ tell me the whole story."

"Oh I don't mind if I do, my lord, but I must ask you to keep it to yourself. It's...not something I can talk freely about, if you know what I mean..."

"Oh, a secret too? This is getting more and more interesting," Lord Gloria smiled delightedly, then he unexpectedly leaned in and gave the other man a peck on the cheek. "There; you know I never kiss and tell, so now your secret is safe with me. Why don't we go grab another of those lovely shrimp cocktails and you can tell me all about it."

Antoine didn't think about it too much; his lordship was not the type to gossip, that much was well known about him. Besides, he was glad to have a chance to spend some time in the company of such a charming man. He had always admired the Earl of Gloria a great deal – not so much in a romantic way, although he certainly wouldn't mind if such an opportunity came up, but he was well aware that he wasn't the type Lord Gloria usually went after. Well, in the past at least, because for several years now there had been no gossip whatsoever about new conquests on his part. Sometimes he was seen flirting at social gatherings, but never went beyond that. Naturally, at first there had been lots of speculation in the social circles about this sudden change; some said it was caused by a failed romance, while others more realistically put it down to his lordship's advancing age and the greater awareness of his social standing that naturally comes with it. No one could say for sure what was the truth of the matter, though, and after a while people stopped wondering so much about it and simply accepted it as a fact. In any case, Antoine considered Lord Gloria a most fascinating man even without the prospect of a love interest. He was one of those fortunate individuals who have no need to follow the trends of fashion; rather, they make fashion follow them. He was above and beyond the sarcasms and malices of this glittering world where everyone was dragged through the mud sooner or later. And although he might seem perfectly at home in this environment at first glance, he never quite followed its unwritten rules, nor did he ever bother to 'behave himself' in order to fit in better; in fact, at times he was more than a little provocative. Antoine would never forget, for example, that time several years back when Barbara Flanagan, editor-in-chief of one of the trendiest fashion magazines and one of the most infamous harpies in the industry, criticized him harshly about a suit he had worn at a benefit the night before, calling it 'a nightmare of clashing colors' and 'fit for an attention whore' among other things. After having listened to her entire rant, Lord Gloria had responded with the most beatific smile, "Why Babs dear, that dashing PR manager of yours must have thought the same; that was probably why he couldn't wait to get it off me last night!" The look on Barbara's face was indeed something to behold; everyone knew she had her eyes on her ten-years-younger PR manager and having him stolen by a man, even one as handsome as Lord Gloria, was the height of mortification for her. The rest of Lord Gloria’s charisma aside, that one scene alone was enough to make him Antoine’s personal hero, despite the fact that he couldn’t really say he knew the man except as a social acquaintance. Indeed, the mystery surrounding him added even more to his charm, and the young up-and-coming fashion designer was happy to have this opportunity to further their acquaintance.

After having settled in a less noisy corner of the room with a shrimp cocktail in hand each, Antoine began his story. “Well, you see, my lord, a few months ago our brand opened a new store in Berlin, and I was sent to oversee the opening as well as our big summer fashion show over there; that show was very important for promoting the store and Mr. Lagerfeld would not trust anyone but me,” he said with obvious pride. “Anyway, our store manager in Berlin had some government connections; quite stuffy gentlemen, I daresay, but we hoped to use their influence in order to reserve a suitable site for our show. There are so many events in Berlin during the summer that it’s practically a war zone when it comes to securing an appropriate space during that time. At any rate, one day one of those government people called our manager to ask for a favor. Well, I say government, but he wasn’t exactly that; it was some old man from NATO.”

“NATO, you say?” Lord Gloria instantly perked up. “But how could NATO be of any use to you? They don’t have any say in renting municipal buildings, I should think.”

“Well, no, of course not, but that old man was well-connected himself, and he pretty much promised that he’d put in a good word to the Mayor of Berlin for us if we did him this little favor. It didn’t seem too complicated either; one of his subordinates was supposed to attend the Russian Ambassador’s reception, and apparently didn’t have suitable attire for the occasion. In fact the old man said outright that his subordinate’s taste in suits was simply despicable and he could not in good faith trust him to be dressed appropriately for a black tie event, and he very politely requested our assistance in the matter.”

“But surely that man could go to that event in uniform? If he was NATO, he had to be an army officer, no?” Lord Gloria asked curiously. “Well, the old man wasn’t very forthcoming about it, but it seemed that for some reason a uniform was out of the question,” Antoine replied. “To tell you the truth, my lord, one of the reasons I accepted this request was because it sounded a lot like those fascinating espionage stories. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve always had a soft spot for the dashing 007 type. Ah, Sean Connery, what a man…” he mused wistfully.

“Well, we all have our preferences, Antoine,” Lord Gloria remarked with a smile. “But I take it your run-in with the world of espionage wasn’t up to your expectations after all? The dashing spy was not so dashing?”

“Oh, he was plenty dashing!” Antoine exclaimed, putting his hands together in another dramatic gesture. “His taste in clothes was indeed horrible – that abominable tie he had on is _still_ haunting me – but as for his appearance...You may find this hard to believe, but he could give even your lordship a run for your money. A dark-haired god, I tell you. Six feet two or so, the most amazing green eyes and a body to _die_ for. I was absolutely smitten with him…that is, until he opened his mouth.”

“Well, what could he possibly say that was so horrible?” Lord Gloria asked with an oddly knowing smirk on his face. “I don’t know about you, Antoine, but for such a man as the one you just described I’d be quite prepared to put up with a little lack of manners.”

 “So would I, my lord, so would I,” Antoine agreed quickly, “but this was _way_ beyond a little lack of manners, I assure you. The man would not even shake hands with me because, and I quote, ‘he didn’t want to catch homo germs’! I mean, of all the rude, bigoted…” Antoine huffed exasperatedly and took several sips of his shrimp cocktail to soothe his agitated nerves. “And went my assistant – my _female_ assistant, mind you – tried to get him to take his jacket off for the measurements, he actually pulled a _gun_ at her! The poor girl was so frightened that she fainted on the spot!”

If there had been any doubts left in Dorian's mind regarding the identity of the dashing secret agent, there were certainly none now. "Oh you poor thing, such an ordeal you went through," he hastened to sympathize. "Don't tell me you made a suit for him after all this? I should think you'd have him kicked out after such abominable behavior."

"That's what I intended to do, but in the end I didn't have to; while I was trying to resuscitate my assistant he stormed out on his own, shouting some very nasty-sounding things in German which I'm probably better off not knowing. I thought I'd seen the last of him after that disaster of a meeting, but the next day his old supervisor contacted us again. He apologized so profusely about his behavior and gave us so many assurances that he would have him behave civilly that in the end I very reluctantly agreed to a second meeting. The old man suggested he might be more cooperative if we met at his workplace, so I had to go all the way to Bonn, to some dreary government building. Went alone too, since after what had happened none of our assistants could be persuaded to accompany me. Fortunately one of the people working with him was...like us, you know," he said meaningfully. "A sweet little thing, and he was even dressed like a woman; I was surprised he could pull that off working under such a homophobic prick, but I was very grateful for his presence. He had quite good taste, if somewhat feminine for my preferences, and he was very eager to help with the measurements and fittings too. My beast of a client, however, was almost as horrible as before. He didn't pull any guns this time, thank the Lord, but he wouldn’t let either one of us near him and insisted that I make his outfit based only on the measurements he dictated to me. I mean, really! Fashion creations are works of art, made specifically with each individual client in mind! I am an artist, not a machine! How is an artist supposed to work like this? I have seen many times over people being cautious or even downright rude with homosexuals, but this was beyond the pale! In the end, scared of him as I was, I let him have it. ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘whatever you may think of homosexuals, we have no less self-control than everyone else. You have made abundantly clear that we do not have the same preferences, and I am not interested in forcing my advances on someone who is unwilling to receive them. But even if I had such an inclination, I could not possibly force myself on a trained agent such as yourself, therefore I really don’t understand what on earth do you think you have to fear from me’.”

“Well said, Antoine,” Lord Gloria said approvingly. “Both your courage and your logic are to be commended. Well, how did your paranoid patron respond to that? That is, assuming he even bothered to excuse his behavior at all.”

“Actually, my lord, he did respond, but his response did not make much sense, I’m afraid. He just stared at me with those frigid eyes for a second and then he said, ‘I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. One time alone did I neglect to keep a Limey faggot at arm’s length, and I’m still paying for it. I will not make the same mistake again.’ I’m not quite sure what he meant by that, but you know…until then I had thought he was just another of those fanatical homophobes, but after he said that I began to wonder whether there was some trauma of sorts behind his extreme reactions. He was probably referring to something that had happened to him in the past, don’t you think? Well, in any case,” he added with a dismissive gesture, “I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with psychological issues which probably require years of therapy, not even for such a handsome man. Somehow I managed to finish his suit – it was splendid by the way, even though I never got to measure him in person – and that was the end of it. The old man had asked me to be discreet, so I never mentioned the incident to anyone until now, but I often thought about it since then. That man…if he was indeed one of us and he was repressing his sexuality because of some bad experience, what a pity that would be…he was such a beauty. But with that attitude of his, I doubt there’s anyone capable of approaching him, let alone make him get over his issues.”

“Indeed,” Lord Gloria said pensively. “Only someone extraordinarily courageous would be able to accomplish such a feat. ‘Faint heart ne’er won fair Major’, to paraphrase the saying.”

“How did you know that, my lord?” Antoine asked, astonished. “It’s true that the officer in question was a Major, but…I didn’t mention this before, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear,” the Earl said with a smile, “but for some reason I had pictured him as a Major in my mind. I often make such accurate guesses based on descriptions; you could say I have a sort of sixth sense for these things.”

“That’s impressive, my lord.” “Well, I’m an impressive man all around, if I do say so myself,” Lord Gloria said with one of his melodic laughs. “Ah, but I’m afraid we can’t continue our very interesting conversation for much longer as I must take my leave. I have another obligation after this, and I see my attendant has arrived to pick me up.” He gestured towards the entrance where Bonham, correctly attired in the Gloria livery, had appeared and was making his way towards his master. “Well, Antoine dear, I daresay it was smashing running into you tonight. You made this soirée far more entertaining than it normally would be. I bid you farewell for now, and we’ll see each other next month about that outfit we talked about earlier.” Antoine bid him goodbye in turn and watched him depart, feeling very gratified by this evening’s turnout. A half-hour in Lord Gloria’s company _and_ a commission for Her Majesty’s reception – that was business with pleasure indeed!

Dorian, too, seemed rather pleased with himself – at least that’s the impression Bonham got whilst driving the Earl to his London home, in order to put on appropriate clothes for his next obligation – namely, the form-fitting catsuit which Eroica favored more than any other of his fashionable ensembles, even though it hadn’t been commissioned at any haute couture establishment. Bonham watched him discreetly for a while through the rear-view mirror; the Earl was lounging back on the car seat with that recently-fed-cat expression which he usually wore after a successful theft or a romantic conquest. But tonight’s job hadn’t even started yet, and as for romantic conquests, well…let’s just say that after his encounter with Uncle NATO there had been an ongoing long, dry spell on that front. Whatever had transpired during this otherwise tedious social gathering to have put him in such a good mood…? After pondering on it for several minutes Bonham finally ventured to ask tentatively, “Did something good happen o’er there, milord? ’T was supposed to be a crashin’ bore, or so your lordship said, but ye seem mighty chipper to me…”

“You could say that, Bonham, you could say that,” Dorian replied cheerfully, without however elaborating further on the subject. He put a finger on his mouth and thought for a few moments, then suddenly he asked in turn, “I say, my dear Bonham…what do you think would be the easiest way to find out the Major’s three sizes?”

Bonham jerked in surprise so violently that he almost drove the car into the opposite traffic lane. “Find out the Major’s what now?!” he yelped, horrified.

“Well, you know,” the Earl said completely nonplussed, “I know his height and waist size, but for tailoring a costume these two are not sufficient. For it to be perfect, I must also know the width of his shoulders, the length of the arms, chest circumference, the thighs…”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture!” Bonham cried out, more and more alarmed by the second. “But what’s this talk about costumes, milord? Don’t tell me yer thinkin’ to stop bein’ a thief and takin’ up tailorin’ just like that?”

Eroica laughed heartily. “Oh gosh, no, my dear fellow. It’s just that…a little birdie told me tonight that the Major happened to need a suit and had one custom-made; and in the process of doing so he revealed a bit more of himself than he bargained for, and to someone he had never even met before to boot. Can’t have that happening again, you see. This time fortunately there was no harm done, but you never know. Therefore, I must make sure the Major will never be in need of a custom-made suit again, and the only way to ensure that is to provide it for him myself.”

“B-but milord,” Bonham stammered, still trying to work his brain around all this, “even supposin’ you learn his sizes and everythin’ and you make ’im the suit, what makes you think Uncle NATO will ever wear anything you give ’im? ’E’d sooner burn it, I reckon!”

“Now now Bonham,” the Earl said reassuringly, “one step at a time. Our first order of business is to learn those three sizes, we’ll deal with the rest when the time comes. Now, I think that after tonight’s job I shall go on a little trip to Germany. Stealing one of the Major’s suits is the easiest way to get all of his measurements in one go, and I could also indulge myself in trying it on a bit. It will be a tad big on me, but the sheer sensation…”

Bonham groaned. Whoever that ‘little birdie’ was, he had gone and done it. Eroica planned to break into Schloss Eberbach – again – and to steal not just Uncle NATO’s belt this time, but a whole suit. God alone knew how that would turn out, but one thing was for sure: the fashion victim in this case had a name and it was Bonham.


End file.
